


Parenting 101 for Dummies

by runawayballista



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Family, Gen, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parenting is a learning process, and like Junior, Tucker mainly learns by doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parenting 101 for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the second round of the RT fic and art trade over on Tumblr. This was written for Delkios at Tumblr, although a week late, so my apologies!

“Man, you are a weird-lookin’ little motherfucker, aren’t you?”

The words come out without him really thinking about them; he’s just looking down at the tiny alien -- his _kid_ , Jesus fuckin’ Christ almighty, _that’s_ a head trip to think about -- and...well, okay, it looks almost exactly like the alien that had spawned it in the first place. It definitely didn’t get its coloring from _Tucker_ , that’s for damn sure.

The little alien -- Tucker’d taken him to calling him Junior, because it was quick and easy and awful and he was trying really hard _not_ to get invested in this whole parenting thing, but -- well, it’s a little late for that, he supposes. Junior follows him around everywhere he goes, and Tucker keeps getting the weird urge to strangle anyone who looks at him the wrong way. Tucker’s not sure he understands it, because in all reality, Junior’s strange and foreign and damn near unintelligible and he smells a little funny after he eats and okay, yeah, Sister was right, he _does_ kinda look like a dog -- but every time he thinks about Junior now the first thing he feels is this raw, unbridled _pang_ , this deep-seated need to tear at anything that might get too close to his kid. Of course, it’s filtered through _Tucker_ and all it really ever manifests as is biting remarks and empty-sounding threats. But it’s there, and Tucker can’t deny that, but he doesn’t have any idea of what to _do_ with it.

Junior just looks up at him, letting out a high-pitched little _blarg_ and Tucker swears he hears a plaintive note in his voice. He has no clue if Junior can even understand him, but Tucker’s not so sure he can forgo the alien-to-English phrasebook just yet.

“I mean, the hell do I know,” Tucker adds, maybe a little quickly, squinting down at Junior. “For all I know, by alien standards you’re a total knockout. Total alien snatch magnet. I mean, you _are_ my kid.”

Junior just gives him an inquisitive little honk and tilts his head to the side a little, and Tucker immediately feels like a _fucking idiot_. “And, y’know. You’re also a _baby_. The fuck am I even talking to you about this shit for? It’s not like it’s gonna matter till you hit alien puberty, which, by the way? Is gonna suck. Don’t care if you’re an alien, little buddy, puberty sucks for _everyone_.”

“Blarg,” says Junior, and Tucker just rolls his eyes.

“Man, why do I even bother? You probably can’t understand a fuckin’ word I’m saying anyway.”

 

===

 

For all that Junior couldn’t understand Tucker’s words, it seemed he learned best by imitation. Doc had gone off at length about it to Tucker, something about _imprinting_ and how baby chimpanzees in who-the-fuck-cares Africa did all kinds of boring shit Tucker would never bother to listen about because he’d just tune Doc out the moment he started talking.

“And did you know an adult chimp has the same cognitive capacity as a _five-year-old_ human being? I mean, they can problem solve and everything? Isn’t Mother Nature just _incredible_ , Tucker?” Doc glances over only to see Tucker distinctly not paying attention and handing Junior what looks like a _fully-loaded_ pistol, ejecting one round into his hand to show Junior the bullet. “Uh -- Tucker?”

“And this, little buddy, is a gun. Can you say _gun_? C’mon, Junior, it’s just one syllable. _Gun_.”

“ _Blarg_ ,” Junior articulates, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Close enough. You see this bad boy? Holds ten in the clip, plus two in the chamber. That’s twelve shots you get to either kill what’s comin’ at you, or make it confused enough that you can run the fuck away. I advise running whenever possible. No one likes a hero, kid.”

“Tucker -- is that a _loaded gun_?” Doc boggles at him, his face contorted in horror. “You can’t give that to an _infant_! Don’t you know that early exposure to violence can have a catastrophic effect on a child’s psyche?”

“What? Dude, he’s from a race of killer aliens. I don’t think an itty bitty gun like that’s gonna scare him.” Tucker scoffs at Doc, rolling his eyes skyward as Junior clumsily handles the gun. It’s a little big for his weird little alien hands, and it’s _clear_ that Junior has not yet mastered fine motor skills yet. Doc eyes the little alien nervously, his gaze snapping back to Tucker.

“That’s -- the safety on that thing is on, right? Tell me you left the safety on.”

“Dude, come on. I’m in the _military_.” Tucker lets out a snort. “Safeties are for pussies, dude.”

“Yeah, uh -- I’m not so sure that rule applies when there’re _babies_ in the room,” Doc says, eyes dropping back to Junior. He edges a half a step away. “Maybe you’d better -- I dunno, _take the gun away_? It seems kind of...unsafe.”

“You know, I’m gettin’ kinda sick of you telling me how to be a dad.” Tucker crosses his arms and gives Doc an impatient, dead-eyed look. “Seriously, Doc. Super fucking annoying.”

“Hey, I thought you’d _want_ my advice,” Doc says, and he doesn’t quite pout, but God, it’s _close_. “Every first-time mom needs a trained medical professional to go to for questions! Y’know, about things like diaper rash, and infant eye-crossing...and did I mention I’ve been a loyal subscriber to _American Baby_ magazine for two years now?”

“Hey, fuck you, I’m not a mom, I’m a _dad_ ,” Tucker snorts. “And you’re like the worst fucking medic I’ve ever seen -- what makes you think I’d trust your _parenting_ advice? Besides, are _you_ the one with the alien baby? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Back off, bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Doc throws his hands up in a defensive gesture. “ _Someone’s_ getting a little testy. Are we maybe suffering from some postpartum depression here?”

“Okay, dude, _seriously_ , if you don’t -- ”

Tucker can’t even get half the sentence off before he’s cut off by a sharp, loud _bang_ , and then Doc lets out a shrill yelp and he’s dancing frantically on one foot, blood dripping from the other to the floor. Junior slowly sets down the pistol, still hot, letting out a little honk that sounds suspiciously like an innocent whistle.

“Oh -- oh, that’s blood.” Doc’s face is bone white, and he scrambles against the wall to find something to hold onto, staring down at his foot in horror, but then he manages to give Junior a weak smile. “Looks like the little rascal shot me, heh! And you said gun safety wasn’t -- hey, uh, Tucker? Guys? Where are you going?”

But Tucker’s already holstered his pistol and started walking off, Junior trailing close behind. “I’d say that’s a lesson in teamkilling, but Doc’s not really on our team. Don’t worry, little buddy. I’m sure you’ll pick it up soon enough. It’s not like there aren’t enough fucking examples around this base anyway.”

“Blarg?”

“What? _No_ , we’re not gonna help him. He’s a medic -- or he’s _supposed_ to be, anyway. He can take care of his stupid foot himself. Could probably use the practice, anyway.” Tucker snorts, shaking his head. “Rule number one about being a Tucker, kid -- we don’t help anybody. It’s _way_ too much work.”

 

===

 

Junior never quite learned to speak English, or any human language as far as Tucker could tell, despite Doc’s best efforts -- Tucker gave up on it early on, mostly because it never seemed worth the effort and Junior’s phonetic range is admittedly kind of limited in the first place. Over time, though, he’s started to realize _he_ can understand Junior just fine, and Junior doesn’t seem to have any trouble understanding him, so there doesn’t seem to be any real need to work on bridging the language gap, since there wasn’t much of one to begin with.

Tucker’s not sure when it was exactly that he picked up alien speak -- if it’s just from exposure or if it’s some kind of weird cross-species parent-child phenomenon afforded by the bizarre circumstances of Junior’s birth -- but either way, it comes in handy when they all get reassigned and Command wants to send Tucker not to another base but to some archeological dig site. It’s a military assignment, of course, but what it sounds like is an excellent way to avoid doing any actual work -- and, he can’t help but think, in the back of his mind, that it might be safer for Junior there. Kind of ironic given that his kid’s from a race of violent beings, but hey, parenthood turns out to be a funny thing sometimes.

It’s nothing more than a diplomatic mission, and _God_ are the meetings boring, but he’s had a lot more time to spend with Junior lately than on Blue Base -- things are pretty quiet around here, except for when there’s any kind of diplomatic issue, but Tucker and Junior seem to make pretty good mediators, like ambassadors for both sides, and Tucker knows they all pay attention when his sword lights up. It’s a little dead here as far as action with the ladies goes, but it’s not like he isn’t used to dry spells, being in the military, and somehow -- weirdly enough -- spending more time with Junior seems to fill a space in him he didn’t know he had.

Of course, it doesn’t stay peaceful forever -- just his goddamn luck, Tucker thinks, when that asshole in brown armor sweeps in and kills damn near the entire diplomatic team with his _own_ team of aliens, none of which seem particularly friendly. Tucker manages to seal himself and Junior inside the temple, and it’s only ‘cause Junior is quick on his feet -- running away, just like Tucker had taught him. The little guy’s a fast learner, and Tucker can’t help but feel a swell of pride.

They hole up in the temple for days, waiting for someone to answer the distress call, but all they hear day after day is the sounds of heavy gunfire outside and that invading asshole and his lackeys trying to bust the temple door down. The temple’s sturdy, but Tucker’s not sure how long it’ll last -- not when they have so many weapons at their disposal, and all he and Junior can do is wait.

Tucker keeps watch near the door when he’s not finding food or sleeping. Ordinarily even a situation like this wouldn’t move him -- like he’d give a fuck if the enemy was knocking at his door, ‘cause _that’s_ a real change from how things used to be in Blood Gulch -- but something about having _Junior_ with him just changes everything. He knows, realistically, that Junior’s not as defenseless as he looks, but at the same time, every time the team outside sounds like they’re getting a little too close, Tucker feels that raw pang in his chest, like he’s gotta _do_ something and he couldn’t identify it at first, that feeling of being _motivated_ to do something, but it’s getting a little more familiar every day. He’s resigned himself to it by now, because even if this isn’t the kind of relationship he’d ever envisioned having with his kid, he’s not so sure he minds, either.

He’s not so sure how long the temple’s gonna hold up, either, and he knows Junior would never _admit_ it -- he’d learned pretty well from Tucker’s example -- but Tucker’s pretty sure the little guy’s getting nervous, too, maybe even a little scared. He hasn’t been eating right, that’s for sure -- usually Junior’s a regular beast at mealtimes, and Tucker can’t help but notice he hasn’t had much of an appetite.

“Hey, don’t you worry, little guy,” Tucker says, glancing over at Junior, and even though the little guy can’t see it, he’s giving him a grin from behind the visor. “Soon enough Church and the others’ll get the distress signal and come pick us up. You know, eventually. That lazy _asshole_.”

Junior, however, doesn’t look all that encouraged. He just lets out a quiet honk in dismay, huddling closer to the campfire. Tucker’s grin fades a little, and he’s kind of glad Junior can’t actually see his face.

“Hey, they’ll be here, kid. Church always shows up eventually. Swear to God he can’t let anything pass without making it all about _him_. So you can bet your ass he’s gonna show up, emptying an entire clip into the nearest wall and trying to save the fuckin’ day.” Tucker shakes his head, rolling his eyes to himself. “And -- hey. Those douchecanoes manage to break in here before the cavalry arrives, I’ll take care of shit. That’s what your dad is for, right?”

“Honk,” says Junior, and his tone speaks vastly of whatever the alien equivalent of _dude, seriously?_ is. Tucker knows he’s not convinced, and he taps the handle of his sword against his leg, sighing.

“I’m serious, kid. They break in here, you better run the fuck away. I’ll hold ‘em off till you find yourself some kinda hideout, you know. Wait till the others arrive.”

Junior lets out a little noise that Tucker swears is some kind of scoff. “Honk blarg,” he says, and Tucker rolls his eyes skyward.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Nobody likes a hero.” Tucker shrugs, activating his sword with a flick of his wrist. “I can live with that. Not like anybody likes me anyway. It’s like I get a free pass for being a total dick.”

“ _Blarg_ ,” says Junior plaintively, and Tucker sighs.

“Yeah, okay, _you_ like me. That’s why I’m doing this for you, little guy. Now c’mon, get ready to run, just like your old man taught you.”


End file.
